


Give Me Something To Believe In

by theinvisibledisaster



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Practical Magic Fusion, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clarke and Harper are Sisters, Detective Bellamy Blake, F/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Small Towns, So It's Chill, True Love, Wells Jaha Lives, Witch Clarke Griffin, Witch Curses, Witches, also lots of making eyes at each other over the diner counter, also some light murder, but it's the kind of murder we condone, minor marper, what can i say i'm a slut for 1800s Pining Eye Contact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledisaster/pseuds/theinvisibledisaster
Summary: “I’m going to do a spell.” Clarke whispered.Harper made a face. “But you never do spells.”“I don’t want to fall in love and then kill someone, Harp.”“Actually, I don’t think that’s how it works - you don’t kill them, I’m pretty sure they just die.”“Because that’s better?”“It might be.” Harper said, but she didn’t sound very convincing. “Okay, so what are you gonna do?”Clarke grinned, teeth glinting in the candlelight. “I’m gonna cast a true love spell. But I’m going to make an impossible man, someone who’s so specific and perfect that he can’t possibly exist. That way, there’s no chance that I’ll hurt anyone.”All the women in the Griffin family are cursed - anyone who falls in love with them will befall great tragedy (death). Clarke never wants to go through that so she tries to prevent it ever happening, until a handsome detective rolls into town. AKA, the Practical Magic AU for my first wife @clarkgriffon.





	Give Me Something To Believe In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheNightbloodSolution](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightbloodSolution/gifts).

> The witchiest Halloween present for [@clarkgriffon](https://clarkgriffon.tumblr.com/), my true love. It's also got some Waitress Vibes because i've been listening to the musical of it while I wrote this, sorry bout it.
> 
> Mira, it's just over a year since I first proposed to you online, and you're the best tumblr wife anyone could ask for and I adore you. You're an angel who deserves the world and I don't know what I ever did to deserve a human like you in my life. <3
> 
> title comes from Lonely People by Orla Gartland, because HELL YEAH IT DOES

_And I feel like we're total strangers, so I_  
_ Monopoly minds, following blind to danger_  
_ This feels like a race against the clock, tick tock_  
_ And all of our tears, rolling off silver medals_

_not sure I've got the heart for this_  
_ maybe that's the hardest part of it_

_If we're brave enough_  
_ we won't save it up for later_  
_ come on show me what_  
_ come on show me what you're made of_  
_ start the engine up_  
_ come on show me what you're made of_  
_ we're not damaged goods, maybe we're just lonely people  
_ **Lonely People - Orla Gartland**

* * *

When Clarke was little, her father used to tell her the legend of the curse that affected all the women in their family. How their ancestor was scorned and tried to cast a spell so she’d never feel love again, but made it so powerful that it ricocheted down through the generations. He had never taken it too seriously, until his eldest sister’s husband died.

After that, both of his sisters secluded themselves in their family house together on the edge of town. The rest of the town liked to claim it didn’t believe in magic in the same breath as pointing a finger at the sisters and calling them witches, but they never seemed to mind Jake.

No-one did - Jake was just a loveable guy.

When Harper was born, everyone used to say that she got Jake’s charm and Clarke got his brains, and Clarke grew to resent that idea, mainly because it implied that Harper wasn’t smart. The girl herself didn’t mind, but Clarke was fiercely protective of the people she loved, and when half the town said they were witches, she started picking fights from a young age.

Jake’s wife passed and he wondered if he somehow managed to pass the curse through to her, if it was his fault, if the curse really was that powerful. Sadly, he never lived to discover the answer - one night, when driving home from work, he swerved to avoid a deer, and his two daughters, barely five and three, were left alone.

It was hard not to believe in curses after that.

When Jake died, it got worse. The charming, loveable barrier was gone, and the girls moved in with their aunts in the woods, adding to the rumours that they had a secret coven out there. Which was just ridiculous - everyone knows that a coven needs at least seven members to be considered legitimate.

Of course, the aunts didn’t help things, what with Diyoza finding the suspicions so funny.

“I’m going to put a frog in her mailbox.” She suggested, when Anya came home from grocery shopping with marks on her arm from where a teenager had shot her with a BB gun.

“That won’t help.” Anya pointed out, calmly putting the eggs and bread away. It didn’t much matter to her anymore - after so many years of rejection by the town, she was distinctly unbothered by it all.

“It’ll help me feel amused.” She waved a hand and muttered something under her breath, flicking a thimble full of dirt in the air.

“Dee, that was the spell for an entire _plague_ of frogs.”

“Yes it was.” She winked at Clarke and Harper over the kitchen counter, and the two of them thought it was just as funny as Diyoza did, until the next day, when there were frogs all over the playground, and the boys kicked sand in Clarke’s face and told her to keep her “witches cooties” away from them.

Things didn’t get better after that.

And when the kids got wind of the curse, well…

“I’ve had it!” Clarke snapped, slamming the door as she threw her bag down on the kitchen counter. She was ten and she’d had enough. “I’m sick of stupid boys running away from me because they’re scared of dying, as if I’d ever like any of them! I’m sick of those mean girls and the nasty teachers. I’m _done.”_

“Well, that’s dramatic of you.” Anya said patiently from where she was sitting on the couch, intermittently stirring pasta sauce with a twirl of her finger.

Harper trudged in behind her. “One of the boys threw a rock at Clarke because she helped Atom up off the floor when he fell. He said he was trying to protect him from Clarke’s evil witch hands.”

“Want me to drop a boulder on his house?” Diyoza asked.

Clarke was only half-sure she was joking.

“No, I’m just… it’s bad enough that we’re witches, but we’re cursed as well? What kind of stupid bingo is that?”

Anya shrugged. “The magic kind. And it’s not like we can un-curse it, or out-curse it - things are how they are.”

“I’ll take meaningless platitudes for 500, Alex.” Diyoza said, and made a face at her sister before she turned to her nieces. “Whether things_ are how they are_ or not, _you_ make your own lives. You make your own choices. Don’t let some mean boys, or a curse, stop you from doing a kind thing - don’t let them make you something you’re not. Okay?”

Clarke shrugged, feeling too bitter to really take that advice how it was intended, but something _did_ stick in her head, and later that night, when the aunts were asleep, she poked Harper’s cheek until she woke up, and dragged her downstairs.

Harper yawned as she sat down across from her in the greenhouse on the edge of the house. “What’s so important that we had to do it at midnight?”

“I’m going to do a spell.” Clarke whispered.

Harper made a face. “But you _never_ do spells.”

“I don’t want to fall in love and then kill someone, Harp.”

“Actually, I don’t think that’s how it works - _you_ don’t kill them, I’m pretty sure they just die.”

“Because that’s better?”

“It might be.” Harper said, but she didn’t sound very convincing. “Okay, so what are you gonna do?”

Clarke grinned, teeth glinting manically in the candlelight. “I’m gonna cast a true love spell. But I’m going to make an _impossible_ man, someone who’s so specific and perfect that he can’t _possibly_ exist. That way, there’s no chance that I’ll hurt anyone.”

She nodded along slowly as she came to terms with the idea, finally straightening up. “What do you need?”

Together, they put the spell together - collected the ingredients, organised them, and carefully put them into the cauldron - and chanted the right words. They looked down into the bubbling liquid curiously, seeing images flash up and disappear.

Harper nudged her. “You’ve gotta say your true love stuff.”

"Oh, right. Uhhhhh…” With every idea, she dropped a petal, waiting for it to sizzle and glitter apart. “My true love has... constellations of freckles everywhere you look. His favourite colour is blue. He has more heart than should be possible in a person. He has a little sister with cat green eyes."

"What, why is that important?"

"It isn't, I'm trying to make him impossible, remember?"

"Okay, then make it more specific - make it unattainable and ridiculous."

"I hate you. Okay, he has a little sister, who doesn't talk to him enough and is married to a crazy-ripped fireman." Clarke said, sticking her tongue out while she did. "He can recite the Odyssey on a whim and knows the Iliad by heart. Eyes the colour of oak trees and chocolate. Not quite six feet tall. Loves singing even though he knows he can't carry a tune. A card carrying member of the Dead Parents Club-"

"Clarke!"

"What? I told you Harp, he can't exist."

"Fine." Harper waved a hand, gesturing for her to continue.

Clarke tapped her finger against her jaw. "He can't draw, but he can throw a punch, and his favourite song is Moon River but he tells everybody it’s Seven Nation Army. And… and hugging him feels like coming home. That's my true love." She dropped the final petal into the bowl and watched as they started swirling together of their own accord.

There was a blinding flash of green light, and when Clarke had blinked it away, the potion was gone, leaving only the faint smell of firewood and something she didn’t recognise in its wake.

“Do you think it worked?” Harper asked.

She shrugged. “It vanished, like it was supposed to. I think that means it worked.”

“In that case,” she got to her feet and held a hand out to help Clarke up, “I think we deserve a hot chocolate before we go to bed.”

And the next morning, when Diyoza complained that they’d run out of marshmallows even though she was sure they’d bought some not a week earlier, the two sisters giggled at each other over the breakfast table.

* * *

When Clarke was eighteen and she was sixteen, Harper ran away.

She was tired of the town’s attitude and she had the spirit of adventure in her soul, so she gathered her things and made to sneak off on the latest train. Except that, because their family was so weird, it was her sister trying to get her to stay and their guardians helping her pack her bag and run away in the middle of the night.

“Don’t forget protein.” Diyoza said cheerily, putting a live chicken into the tiny rucksack.

Clarke hugged her sister before she left, wishing more than anything that she never had to let go, and Harper squeezed her tight and whispered a promise in her ear. “I’ll always come back. Whenever we need each other, we’ll always be here.”

They pulled away, and a magical wave rippled outwards from them.

“What was that?” Harper asked, looking around for the source.

“Clarke.” Anya hummed, looking for some wormroot to pack for her.

It was a little spoken but widely accepted fact in their family that Clarke was powerful - the most powerful witch since the ancestor that cursed the Griffin Women in the first place - and frequently cast spells without even trying. Which was actually a massive inconvenience; one she’d been trying to get under control. But apparently, the fear of losing her sister had been enough to lock Harper’s words together in an unbreakable vow.

“Could be worse.” Diyoza pointed out. “She could have cast it on the chicken, and then where would you be?”

Harper, completely unfazed, simply shrugged and hugged her sister once more - sealing her promise.

Once she’d left, Clarke finally let herself cry, and as the sun broke over the horizon to welcome in the day, Anya tutted and pointed her towards the front door. “The mailman’s dropping off a parcel and he wants to talk to you.”

By lunchtime, Clarke had a phone number burning a hole in her pocket, Anya was finishing up her fifteenth knitted jumper, and Diyoza had made four dozen cupcakes. Harper’s absence seemed to make all of them desperate to fill their hours with something to replace the permanent aura of joy she took with her when she left.

Clarke stared at the number the mailman had given her, and thought about the fact that her younger sister was making her way in the world, one step at a time.

She picked up the phone.

* * *

When she was pregnant with her first child, Clarke opened a diner in the centre of town. She was trying to put work into integrating properly into the society her aunts shunned so readily, but even that barely made a difference.

People came into the diner every day - it was one of the most frequented eateries in town - but they rarely spoke to Clarke, or invited her anywhere, or included her in town-wide activities. Everywhere she went, there were still the harsh whispers that had followed her for her whole life. The only time she heard a kind word from anyone was when someone discreetly asked for a magical tonic or healing balm, usually by slipping a note under a dish or scrawling the request on a napkin.

After she realised that, Clarke decided to lean into it; she built a novelty mailbox and stacked it above the jukebox in the corner, so that people could leave anonymous requests while they picked a song.

By the time Charlotte was born, she was essentially running two businesses, what with the diner and the magical distribution, so when the guy who she used to see in the library at school - Wells Jaha - offered to take a few shifts for her, she accepted gladly, if a little warily. She wasn’t sure what to make of the town’s golden boy trying to help her, but once she was sure that he had pure intentions, she let him take on more and more of the responsibility.

Every day, she came into work, and every day he offered a different punny name to put over the sign - the diner had never really had a name, she’d been too pregnant and scatterbrained to think of one, and none of her ideas had ever felt right - so every day, she waved a hand and Wells’ suggestion would appear over the door.

When she was pregnant with her second daughter, Wells signed on as a co-owner of the diner, and once Madi was born, he even babysat whenever Clarke and her husband needed a date night.

He was her only friend in the town, and he was there whenever she needed.

Which is why, on the day her husband died, he was the person she clung to while she cried.

That day, the diner was called, _“Broom with a View”_ and he’d only ducked across the road to pick up some extra milk from the grocer, and when he returned, Clarke was on the floor and the place was completely empty.

“Where did everyone go?” He asked, looking around, but the question didn’t need an answer once he rounded the counter to find Clarke clutching her legs frantically, hyperventilating. He shoved the milk into the fridge and jogged over to her.

“Whoa, whoa, are you okay?” He knelt down and she fell against him, sobbing. “Clarke, you have to talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“He’s gone.” She sniffled.

“Who is, what are you talking about?”

“The curse took him and I couldn’t do anything.” She whispered.

And then the sheriff walked in the door bearing the bad news, and Wells didn’t let her go for the rest of the day.

* * *

Clarke moved back in with the aunts, and it was that night, tired and grief-stricken, that she found out that they were the ones who pushed them together in the first place.

The girls were in bed, cried out, but Clarke couldn’t sleep.

And then they told her.

“I wasn’t thinking.” Anya shook her head, angry at herself. “We just thought that since you cast that true love spell, he couldn’t possibly be affected by the curse. So we… nudged you together.”

“You _what?!”_

The hot chocolate on the table boiled over.

“We didn’t make him fall in love with you, those feelings were already there; we just… pushed you a little closer.” Diyoza admitted.

A window shattered.

“We thought, if he wasn’t your true love, he might be safe.”

The ground started rumbling beneath their feet.

Diyoza rushed forward. “Clarke, you have to take a breath - if you don’t, the whole house is gonna come down.”

“I don’t care!” She screamed. “You did this to me! I never wanted it and then you gave him to me and you took him away!”

“And we’re sorry.” Anya said. “But causing an earthquake won’t fix it.”

“Well what _will_ fix it, Anya? Because I’m going _crazy_ here, and nothing makes it better. I loved him so much and now he’s gone and nothing makes sense because I was never going to fall in love. It wasn’t supposed to happen! And now I’ve got two kids who want me to make everything better and I don’t know _how_. I never wanted this! I never…” She trailed off, too overcome with tears to speak, and sunk to the floor, unable to take her own weight anymore.

Which was when the door burst open and a familiar presence ran through the house.

“Oh Clarkey, I’m so sorry.” Harper gasped, pulling her into a hug. “I got you. I’m here.”

“I didn’t want it, Harp.” She sobbed. “I didn’t want it.”

Harper just held her tighter and stroked her hair. “I know. I wish I could take if for you.”

Diyoza and Anya shuffled in as well, and the three of them held onto her until the tears subsided and the sun was in the sky once more.

* * *

Harper stayed for a week; she helped her get up in the mornings and made flower arrangements for the funeral, and glared daggers at anyone who dared whisper in Clarke’s vicinity.

She waved prettily to Monty as he carried a box of vegetables over the road to the grocer’s, and he almost tripped over his own feet in his rush to wave back, which made her blush and scurry back to the kitchen.

She told Clarke about the new guy she was dating - Cage Wallace - and Clarke teased her about his name while she ground coffee for the diner.

She met Wells, who seemed to share her worries about Clarke, and the two of them made it their mission to keep her distracted and make sure the girls were okay. Madi and Charlotte were young, they were resilient, but they weren’t made of stone, and when their mother needed a moment to break down, Harper watched them for her.

By the morning of the funeral, Clarke was adjusting better. She even laughed when Harper and Wells made jokes about it.

“Well, next time you marry a guy, make sure you’re not in love with him.” Harper said, wiping the countertop down ready for the day.

“I hate you.”

“She has a point.” Wells said over his shoulder, unstacking the chairs.

“You too.” Clarke glared.

Harper grinned. “That’s perfect; marry Wells! You’ll never be in love with him.”

“Gee, thanks.” He deadpanned.

“That’s sweet of you guys, but I’m never getting married again. I’m never falling in love again, and anytime I so much as _think_ I might, I’m leaving town.”

An egg hit the window.

“Aw, but where else would you get such a welcoming atmosphere?” Harper asked sardonically, throwing up her middle finger at the teenager as he ran away to where his friends were definitely hiding. “Seriously, Clarkey, are you sure you’re gonna be okay if I leave tonight? I can convince Cage to pick me up next week.”

She shook her head emphatically. “Go live your life, Harp. Just… be careful, okay?”

“I’m being careful. It’s far too early for me to be in love with him anyway.”

“I’m serious Harp - the curse will destroy it and it’s not worth it.”

“Being friends with you has made conversations with other people seem dull by comparison.” Wells complained, flipping the sign to Open. The one above the door named it,_ “Kettle Down”,_ which had come to him after the girls wouldn’t stop misbehaving on the way to school.

“Imagine what it’s like _being_ us; the people in this town start to feel suffocating after a while.” Harper snatched a cupcake off the display case, much to Clarke’s chagrin.

“Is that why you left?”

She nodded. “And why I’m leaving again. I don’t know how Clarke stands it.”

“Practice.” Clarke muttered, as the usual trickle of people started through the door.

* * *

The funeral was later in the afternoon, and she shut up shop and picked up the girls to head down there. While her husband’s casket was lowered in the ground, Harper held her hand, and her girls clung to her legs.

_“I’m never falling in love again.”_ She promised herself, throwing the first handful of dirt into the grave.

After the funeral, everybody headed into town for the wake, but Harper started drifting towards the fenceline. Clarke glanced that way; there was a dark green car parked on the side of the road, the man inside it obscured by shadow.

Harper hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”

“Go.” Clarke said, releasing her hand. “We’ll be okay.”

She started walking away, but she called back as she did, “Write to me! And call me!”

“You too; don’t even think about forgetting about us!” Clarke joked.

Harper laughed, hopping the fence.

Clarke didn’t see her again for eight months.

* * *

Of course they wrote to each other, called each other, put out magical offerings for each other, but for nearly a year, Harper and her boyfriend seemed to travel non-stop, and Clarke had daughters to raise.

In that time, she managed to get her shit together enough that she almost had a handle on her life. She took the girls to school on her way into town, worked with Wells and her two new employees - John Murphy and Emori Numida, who had rolled in from out of town six months earlier, and didn’t mind so much that weird things happened around Clarke - and the girls would meet her at the diner ready to walk home. They had dinner with Diyoza and Anya every night, and Diyoza helped Charlotte with her math homework while Madi watched Anya making potions in the greenhouse, and in those brief moments of quiet, Clarke drank tea and thought of her sister.

Their bond was strong; she often felt the moments Harper was feeling nostalgic or lonely or lost, and lately, they’d been more frequent than the flashes of happiness.

She tried to dismiss it as nothing, but it was beginning to worry her.

There was a strange tinge to the air when Clarke woke up one Tuesday morning, one she couldn’t put her finger on. Everything seemed normal - or as normal as things could get when one was a witch - but still, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling.

Charlotte and Madi waved goodbye to her from the school gate and she made her way through town to open the diner.

Wells was already there, putting out the cakes, and she smiled at him as she unstacked the chairs.

“Remind me why you don’t use magic to do that again?”

“Because I don’t need to fuel the fire. The town already _thinks_ I’m a witch, I don’t intend to confirm it for them.”

He mumbled something under his breath, but didn’t push the issue, and for a few hours, while she made coffee and served meals that Murphy made, she could almost forget about the frisson in the air.

Until late in the afternoon, when the door jangled and it was like all the oxygen was sucked from the room. She stopped, mid-pour, and looked up. A shaggy-haired man in a jacket at least a size too large strode to the counter and ordered lunch, choosing to sit on a stool rather than retreat to a table, and Clarke couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He was where the magical disturbance was coming from, she was sure of it. Especially when he caught her eye, and the air flooded back into the diner, washing the place in warmth and light. The man made her feel _safe_.

And he was saying something to her.

She blinked, resumed pouring, and asked, “Sorry, what was that?”

“You’re the owner?”

“Uh, yeah.” She said distractedly, handing the coffee off to Kyle with a wave.

“Clarke,” he checked a small notebook, “Griffin?”

“That’s me.”

Murphy dinged the bell for service and she spun on her heel to take the plates. He raised an eyebrow at her. “He’s new.”

“So were you.” She muttered as she took the meals over to Kane and his mother. She could hear him laughing behind her as he flipped burgers.

When she returned to the counter, Bellamy was still looking at her. She straightened as she put on another pot of coffee. “Can I help you?”

“Do you know a Harper Griffin?” He asked, clearly knowing the answer. When she shot him a look, he raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, sorry. Did you know that your sister’s been keeping some odd company?”

She didn’t say anything, but tilted her head for him to continue.

He checked his notes again, eyes lingering just a little too long on her face before they dropped back to the page. “Last seen with Cage Wallace, somewhere near Polis City, two weeks ago.”

Clarke swallowed. She hadn’t realised Harper was that close.

“Okay, why are you here?” She asked him, as politely as she could. He rummaged around his pocket and pulled out a wallet - there was a badge on it - and she glanced between his face and the inscription on the metal. “Special Prosecutor? Is that even a real job?”

He smiled. “I’m Bellamy Blake, and I’m here because I have reason to believe that your sister is keeping the company of a wanted killer.”

Somewhere to her left, Wells dropped a mug on the floor.

It shattered, loudly, and Clarke flinched, making the milk in her hand too hot.

It boiled over onto her fingers and she dropped the jug into the sink and clasped a tea-towel over her hand. She winced, jerking her elbow towards the mess that Wells was kneeling in front of, and it swept itself up.

“So you’ll use it for _this_, but not for chairs?” Wells snorted.

“That’s a hazard.” She pointed out.

_“You’re_ a hazard.” He said petulantly.

Bellamy, who seemed to be so concerned by Clarke’s burned fingers that he hadn’t even seen the minor display of magic, leaned over the counter, arm outstretched. “Are you okay?”

She let him take her hand. “I’m fine. Really, I’m okay, you just… surprised me.”

He inspected it carefully, fingers brushing over hers. “You’ll be fine. But if you know something about your sister-”

“-I wish I could help you, but I haven’t seen my sister in nearly a year.”

“But you talk, right?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

He frowned. Her hand was still in his. “What manner of speaking?”

“Harper travels a lot. She’s not always in a place with signal, or at an address I know, so we talk, but it’s sporadic.”

“Also the witch juju.” Emori said, as she took over making coffee where Clarke had abandoned it in her distraction.

“Witch juju?” Bellamy asked, amused.

“Oh yeah, the Griffin’s are all witches, or hadn’t you heard?”

“I heard.” He said, looking right at Clarke.

“It’s not called juju.” Was all Clarke said in response, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

She extracted her hand from his grip and nudged Emori off the machine and back towards the kitchen, apologising to her as she did. Emori waved it off with a grin and slunk through to help Murphy.

“What’s it called?” Bellamy asked.

“Witchcraft.” One of the townspeople said, snatching their order from the counter. “And we don’t support that stuff here.”

“You believe in all that?” Bellamy asked, with a tone so incredulous that the person almost flinched as they scurried away, still managing to shoot a sharp glare in Clarke’s direction. He looked back to her, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Witchcraft, huh?”

She didn’t have a chance to come up with a response, because Charlotte and Madi skipped inside and ran behind the counter. She beamed at them, bending down to ask how their days had been.

“It was great! We dissected a frog.” Charlotte said. “Auntie Dee said that you accidentally brought one back to life when you did it! I couldn’t do that - I tried.”

Clarke tutted, and spoke quiet enough that she was sure the detective couldn’t hear. “Charlie, you can’t do magic at school, okay? You’ve got to be careful.”

“I _was_, I swear!”

“I got pushed.” Madi interjected.

“What?”

“One of the boys pushed me and I nearly fell down the stairs.” She said, matter-of-fact, like it was normal.

“Are you okay? Did you tell a teacher?”

Madi made a face. “Mr Lightbourne doesn’t like me much. Sometimes it’s better to leave it alone.”

Clarke suppressed a sigh; all the work she’d put in over the years making everything as normal as she could be, integrating into society, and none of it seemed to matter. She noticed Bellamy leaning forward over the counter again, to see if things were okay, and she bristled, about to tell him that she hadn’t heard from her sister and that he should look for her elsewhere, when she felt it.

Harper was in trouble.

It was like fingernails digging into her forearm, trying to pull her towards her sister, and she couldn’t fathom the idea of not running to her aide.

“Wells.” She said.

He looked over, about to make a joke, but his face fell when he saw her. “Clarke, you okay? You look pale.”

“I need, uh, I need a favour.” She shook her head and pressed kisses to the tops of her daughters’ foreheads. “Can you take the girls home for me? I’ve got something I need to do.”

“Yeah. You sure you’re okay?”

Clarke felt the invisible fingernails beginning to form claws, to rake down her back as well as her arms. She grabbed her bag from the office in the back and dashed out, right past the baffled looking detective. She called, “I’ll be back later,” over her shoulder to Wells.

* * *

She drove to the edge of town, following the pull of Harper’s panic. She was barely past the outskirts when something appeared on the road in front of her and she had to slam on the brakes.

The car screeched to a stop, headlights illuminating a man she didn’t recognise.

He slammed his palms down on her bonnet, and he was yelling something at her, but she barely heard it, because someone was throwing themselves into the passenger seat.

“Drive.” Harper said.

Cage growled and made for the door.

“Where?!” Clarke yelled.

“Just get us out of here!”

Clarke threw the car into reverse. “We’re practically in town, Harp, if he goes looking for you, everyone’ll know where you’ll be!”

“What if-” She cut herself off with a shriek as a massive rock hit the windscreen, shattering it.

Something else hit the car, lower down, and Clarke felt the wheel slipping - one of the tires had blown out. She swerved to avoid a tree and they ended up in a ditch, panting, and Clarke glanced around furtively, looking for Cage.

Before she had a chance to act, Harper’s window smashed and she screamed, and then she was dragged out of the car.

Clarke scrambled to follow them out, but her seatbelt was caught, and by the time she got out there, Harper was on the ground with Cage on top of her, hands around her throat.

She didn’t even think, she just summoned as much magic as she could and slammed it towards him. The wave hit, hard, and Cage went flying, smacking a large oak before he dropped to the ground, completely motionless.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!” Clarke ran to her sister, helping her into a sitting position.

“I’m fine, I…” She sniffled. “I can’t believe I let it get this far.”

“What happened?”

“For the last few months, it’s been… I’ve felt suffocated. He wouldn’t let me do anything without him, and I let myself believe that I didn’t have a choice, until tonight.” She wiped under her nose, smearing blood from her cut lip. “I missed you, and we were only in the next town over, so I snuck out. I was only gonna be gone for an hour, he shouldn’t have even noticed I was missing, so I left.”

“But he found you.” She realised.

“He found me.” Now that she was closer, Clarke could see that Harper looked drained, upset, and there were a whole host of bruises that were too old to have possibly been from that night, dotted over her arms. “He told me I was his and that if I didn’t come back with him that bad things would happen, and when I said no, he hit me. So I ran into the woods. That’s when I saw your headlights and I knew it was you.”

Clarke glanced over to where Cage was still lying.

She frowned.

After helping Harper to her feet, the two of them went to check on the man. Clarke waved a hand over him, dread settling like a stone in her stomach.

She wanted to throw up.

“Uh. Harper.” She said, voice cracking.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s dead.” She whispered.

Harper clapped a hand over her mouth. “No. No, he can’t be! Oh my god. We just killed a man.”

Clarke shook her head. _“I_ just killed a man, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“What are we gonna do?” She ran her hand down her face. “Clarke, oh my god, what are we gonna do, we just killed a guy!”

“I just killed a guy.” She reiterated. “And apparently he was a wanted criminal anyway, so it’s no great loss to the world.”

“How are you being so calm right now?!”

“Because he was going to kill _you." _She said darkly. “If I hadn’t done something, it would be you lying dead in the forest, and there is no universe where I would allow that to happen.”

Harper lurched forward and pulled her into a hug, squeezing her as tight as she could. Clarke hugged her back, just relieved her sister was safe, and when they pulled apart, she knelt down next to Cage. She wasn’t sure what to do, but she figured she shouldn’t leave a body exposed in the woods, so she thought it over, trying to formulate a plan. She picked up a leaf and twirled it over in her hand while she pondered it, wishing more than anything that she hadn’t killed him. She wasn’t a killer; he left her no choice.

There was a flicker of golden light, electricity from her fingertips to the leaf that fizzled into the ground below her, and then Cage’s eyes snapped open.

She fell backwards in shock, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the dirt, trying to drag herself back.

He leapt at her, hands closing around her throat, and she smacked at his arms, but he was too strong. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen and she could feel unconsciousness beckoning.

Something hit Cage with a dull _thunk_, and then he fell off her - eyes still open and mouth hanging lopsidedly.

Clarke gasped for air.

Harper was standing over them with a large rock in hand.

“Okay.” Clarke rasped. “That time, _you_ killed him.”

“I didn’t mean to, I just wanted him off you.” She said, glaring down at the body with derision.

“Thanks.” Clarke said. She let her eyes drift closed, tried to get her bearings. “Glad that killing’s a team sport, but I definitely killed him first.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“No, it definitely isn’t.” She conceded. “Because I already won it.”

Harper snorted. “We definitely shouldn’t be laughing about this.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not normal.”

She laughed again, a little harder. Clarke joined in, and it felt a little hysterical, cackling in the woods in the dark; it struck her that this kind of behaviour wouldn’t exactly improve their standing in the town, and she found herself laughing even harder. Once it died down, it left an uncomfortable vacuum of silence in its wake - the weight of what they’d just done making the air thick. They had the same thought, but it was Harper who vocalised it. “We can’t just leave him here.”

Clarke nodded. “We’ll take him to the aunts. They’ll know what to do.”

Which was how they ended up stuffing a body into the trunk of her badly scratched up car and driving home with the radio playing. She changed the station a few times, restless and unable to settle on anything, and Harper didn’t complain like she usually did. When Clarke sent her a concerned glance, her sister straightened and reached across to hold her hand.

“I love you, you know that?”

She smiled. “Yeah, Harp, I know. I love you too.”

“Now we just have to hope that the aunts love us enough to help us hide a body.” She joked.

* * *

As it turned out, the aunts were _more_ than willing to help them hide a body, and in fact, Anya offered her newest vegetable patch that had yet to be seeded.

“Human flesh is good for squash.” She said, non-committal.

“I’m not gonna ask how she knows that.” Harper muttered to Clarke as the two of them deposited Cage’s body into the dirt and Diyoza filled the hole in on top of him.

They made sure he was completely covered, and when they were certain, Diyoza dusted off her hands. “Tea?”

They sat around the dining room table in the dim light from the candles, sipping tea, while Harper filled them in on her time with Cage.

It wasn’t pleasant.

By the time she finished, they were holding her hands, clasped together against the darkness; a family united once more. It didn’t matter that there were tears on their cheeks or worry in their eyes - they were going to be okay.

As they headed up to bed, Clarke thought she heard a scratching noise coming from the greenhouse, but when she glanced over, there was nothing to see. Must have been a branch on the glass.

In the pitch black sky, the moon glowed red.

* * *

The next morning, Clarke woke up the girls and took them to school, as normal.

She opened the diner with Wells, as normal.

She waved a hand to change the name above the door to _“Hex and Balances”_ \- Wells was particularly proud of that one - as normal.

What wasn’t normal, was when the open sign had been turned over and the first few morning regulars had cycled through, and she found herself face to face with that detective.

She blinked.

In the morning light, she could see his features more clearly, and her eyes were drawn to the constellations of freckles over every inch of his skin. She was so distracted trying to map them out that she almost missed it when he spoke.

“Coffee please.” Bellamy sat down at the counter; he chose a seat a lot closer to her place at the coffee machine than the day before, and she tried not to read too much into that. “And whatever you think is best for breakfast.”

She regained her bearings and turned to yell into the kitchen, “Get the detective the Murphy Special!”

“What’s the Murphy Special?” He asked.

“You’ll have to wait and find out.” She said snippily. “What are you still doing in town, anyway? I thought you left.”

He smiled at her, eyes crinkling in the corners. “It was late, didn’t think it was a good idea to start a journey in the dark.”

Frustratingly, she couldn’t fault that logic, so she just nodded along and went back to making coffee and serving food to the villagers. But having him there set her on edge; not just because of _why_ he was there, but because of the strange magical aura around him. Not knowing things made Clarke anxious, and he was an enigma. She tried to brush off her misgivings and act normal, but Wells was clearly thrown by her standoffishness and Murphy tried to offer her a cigarette to calm her nerves.

Bellamy tucked into his breakfast with enthusiasm, and he was almost finished and - blissfully - about to leave, when three women stormed into the diner.

“Hi Raven, what can I do for you?” Clarke asked, sickly sweet.

“Don’t play dumb with me!”

She sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee. “What have they done this time?”

“They cursed Echo’s son!”

Clarke glanced at the other woman. “Uh-huh.”

“And after Josephine walked past them this morning, she’s had nothing but bad luck!” Raven continued, incensed.

It was all she could do not to snort with laughter. She took a long draught of her coffee, and when she put the mug down, the women were still staring at her expectantly with their arms crossed. She frowned. “I’m sorry, what do you want from me?”

“To get your daughters under _control!”_ Echo said. “My boy was attacked by a swarm of bees all because your daughter pointed her finger at him!”

Clarke rearranged a plate of cookies. “Are you sure your boy didn’t just walk into a hive again?”

Echo started forward, furious, but Raven put a hand out. “Clarke, we’ve been talking, and we think it’s best if you homeschool your kids. We just don’t need that kind of atmosphere in our school.”

Still exuding that ice-cold veneer of calm, Clarke stopped working and placed her hands, palms down, on the counter.

Wells muttered, “Oh shit,” under his breath, and ducked back behind the kitchen, peeking through the window with Murphy and Emori at the explosion that was so clearly about to happen. Bellamy was sitting practically in the middle of it, but he made no move to leave; in fact, he seemed enraptured.

Clarke tilted her head, regarding the women. “Atmosphere?”

Josephine swallowed. “Yeah, it-”

“You mean the atmosphere that causes my daughters to come home crying from school because _your children_ call them names? The atmosphere that’s been in this town for so long that my sister and I used to do the same thing back when _you_ bullied _us?”_

“That’s hardly fair-” Echo tried, but Clarke wasn’t done.

“If I thought I could homeschool my girls, I would have done it a long time ago, for their sake, but unfortunately I’m a single mother working a full-time job, unlike you three. Well you know what? I’m sick of it. Everyone in this town can mutter about me and my family until they want coffee and then suddenly it’s all just _rumour_ and _gossip_ and no-one _really_ believes it - well I’m sick of it. If you want to treat my daughters like second class citizens and then complain when they retaliate, you don’t get good food and coffee.”

Josephine scoffed. “Please, there are other food places in town.”

Clarke’s fingers drummed across the counter, just once. “Not for you there aren’t.”

Raven’s gaze caught on her fingers. “What are you doing?”

“Getting back to work.” Clarke said, the saccharine tone back in her voice as she turned to the kitchen to take entrees to Sinclair’s table. “Now get out of my diner.”

The three women stalked out, talking over each other as they yelled to the patrons that the owner was a bitch, a witch, and a whole host of other things. Clarke didn’t release her breath until the door jangled shut behind them.

Wells emerged from the kitchen, squeezing her elbow as he brushed past. “What did you do?”

“Exactly what I said.” She admitted. “No good food or coffee for them.”

He chuckled to himself as he returned to work, and Clarke noticed someone slipping a note into the magical request box. Nothing ever changed in this town.

For a few minutes, she busied herself cutting slices of pie for the display case, imagining that she was normal.

_“How shameless - the way these mortals blame the gods.”_ Bellamy recited to himself, and something about the words struck a chord with her.

When she looked up, her blue eyes met Bellamy’s deep brown ones, and she couldn’t quite read the expression in them, but there was the ghost of a smile tweaking at his lips, and she felt the effect of his gaze even after it dropped back to his plate.

She didn’t know why, but as much as she wanted him to leave town as soon as possible, part of her ached for him to stay.

* * *

For three days, Clarke managed to go about her day.

Bellamy kept coming in in the mornings and unnerving her, but she could manage that. Just.

He didn’t talk to her much; choosing more often to observe the townsfolk, and struck up a bit of a rapport with Wells, and when he did speak to her, it wasn’t about his case. It was like he was just a regular member of the morning crowd, and it was beginning to get weird. Clarke thought he’d leave town the second he realised he wouldn’t get anything from her regarding Cage, but apparently not. Sometimes his phone flashed up a photo of a dark-haired girl with green eyes - maybe his girlfriend or someone from work - and he always rushed to answer it, but the calls never lasted very long. Clarke didn’t pry.

One of the mornings, he went over to inspect her magical request box and he seemed to find it more amusing than anything else. When he returned to his seat, the jukebox was playing _Moon River,_ and Clarke hummed along to it while she worked, occasionally catching his eye and ducking her head to hide her smile.

On the third day, during a quiet period, she took to sketching some of the patrons; sometimes she offered the drawings to them, but most of the time they stayed in her book.

“Those are incredible.” Bellamy said.

She hadn’t even realised he’d been watching her, but she supposed she shouldn’t have been that surprised. “Thank you. It’s just a silly hobby really.”

“I think it’s incredible.” He said, sincere. “I wish I could create anything that beautiful with my hands.”

She found herself momentarily lost for words - something that _kept_ happening around him - and heard her voice say, “I can do you, if you like?”

Murphy laughed from where he was eavesdropping in the kitchen, but Bellamy just nodded and offered her money for it. She politely declined, and put her pencil to paper.

She really hadn’t thought it through.

Drawing him meant that she had to spend long periods of time _looking_ at him, which is something she had been pointedly avoiding doing, but for over a hour, she raked her eyes over every feature of his face. Every now and then he became self-conscious, and she would take a break to change the coffee or rotate the cake display, but by the time the lunch rush came in, she had a near-complete portrait of him.

While she was distracted with a customer, he peeked at it, grinning at the likeness.

“It’s not done yet.” She scolded, lightly tapping his hands away from the sketchbook.

He schooled his smile, but she could still see his appreciation bleeding through his eyes. It was disconcerting, and she didn’t touch the drawing for the rest of the day. That was the first day that he didn’t leave the diner at all, from open to close, and when she started locking up he helped Wells stack the chairs.

She began to think his presence might become a problem.

Things started to get weird on the fourth day.

She opened up the diner, went about her morning, tried to ignore the subtle glances Bellamy sent her way, and kept her head down. Things were going fine.

Until-

“There’s a blood moon in the fucking sky.” Diyoza said as she strode in. “And I blame you.”

“Thanks.” Clarke deadpanned, sliding her a scone across the counter.

“Clarke, this is serious.” She took a bite, managing to speak around the mouthful. “There’s been blood on the moon for days, but now it’s out in daylight, and that’s _bad.”_

She folded her arms. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, Dee, what do you expect me to do?” She snapped.

It was at that moment that Diyoza noticed the presence of the man beside her. She raised an eyebrow as she inspected him, and then turned it on Clarke. “Who’s this?”

“This is the detective looking for Wallace.” She muttered.

“And you haven’t mentioned this because?”

“Because I don’t know why he’s still in town.” She said pointedly. “Cage isn’t here.”

“Alright then, why are you here, Mr Blake?” Diyoza asked him.

He poked at his food with a fork while he thought the question over. “I was going to leave this morning - I really was - but on my way out of town, I found Wallace’s car parked by a cabin in the forest, so I thought I’d stick around for another week or so, make sure he’s not hiding anywhere around here.”

“Not hiding here.” Clarke said, forcing a blank expression.

His eyes narrowed a fraction at her. “What about your sister?”

Harper answered that question for him by walking into the diner with Monty Green from the grocery supplier. She giggled at something he said, and once they reached the counter she beamed over at Clarke. “Monty says he can get us a way better deal on ingredients for the diner than Mr Pike was offering, isn’t that great?”

“Us?” Clarke mouthed.

“Well, yeah, I mean…” She cut her eyes to the sugar bowl. “I might stick around this time. I’ve had enough adventure for a while.”

“Speaking of,” Bellamy made his presence known, offering a hand for her to shake, “I need to ask you a few questions.”

Harper froze like a deer in headlights. “Uh. Sure. Who are you?”

“He’s the detective looking for Wallace that Clarke didn’t tell us about.” Diyoza said, smirking.

“Why wouldn’t Clarke tell us abou-”

“-I thought he was leaving!” She said, throwing up her hands in exasperation, really not appreciating the interrogation.

Harper looked the man over with a critical eye. She was sceptical when she asked Clarke, “Is that really why?”

“Why else?”

“No reason.” She said, leaning closer to him. “So, handsome detective-”

“-Bellamy.” Clarke and Bellamy said at the same time, although with drastically different tones. Clarke was harsh, warning, and Bellamy was being friendly, and Diyoza glanced between the two of them, her smirk getting wider.

“...okay. Bellamy,” Harper corrected, “What do you need to know?”

“When was the last time you saw Cage Wallace?”

“Tuesday.”

“Where were you?”

“In the woods outside town. I wanted to come visit my sister, he wouldn’t let me, so I snuck out. He chased me but I got away, and I haven’t seen him since that night.” Only Harper could manage to lie without lying.

Bellamy scribbled it out in his book. “And did you know his car was still here?”

Harper’s eyes widened and flickered to Clarke for a fraction of a second before they returned to him. “No.”

He wrote something else down. “That’s all for now, Miss Griffin.”

“Harper.” She said, smiling at him warmly. He returned the expression, right before his phone rang. Those green eyes flashed up again. Harper noticed his reluctance to answer the phone. “Girlfriend?”

“Sister.” He said, pocketing it. “Our parents died when we were young, so I pretty much raised her, but being raised by your older brother doesn’t exactly lend itself to a healthy relationship. We’ve been sort of… estranged, for a while, but ever since I started hunting for Wallace, she’s been keeping tabs on me. It’s nice to know she’s worried, at least, but I think the actual calls are more to do with her husband than her.”

“Aw that’s sweet, that he’s trying to help.”

Bellamy fidgeted uncomfortably. “I guess. I was a bit of a dick to him the first time I met him.”

“So?” Diyoza finished off her scone. “That’s how I met my husband.”

Clarke looked up in surprise - Diyoza never spoke about her husband.

“He was this travelling salesman, just rolling through town, barely stopped for a day, and he thought our house was a bed and breakfast. Came right inside without even knocking. I was _furious_, and I treated him terribly and sent him on his way. I didn’t see him again for two years, and when I did, he did the exact same thing - walked into my kitchen while I was making pie for Jake’s birthday - except he was holding flowers and came to apologise. And he just sort of… never left.”

Harper reached out for her hand.

“He died in that house.” Diyoza said softly. “Just closed his eyes one afternoon and never opened them.” She looked at Clarke with such earnest in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She smiled sadly. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

But Diyoza was emphatic. “We shouldn’t have done it.”

“If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Charlotte and Madi, and they’re the _most_ important thing in my life. You’re my family, and family comes first.” Clarke promised. “No matter what.”

“No matter what.” Harper echoed.

“I’ve been in love with you since the fifth grade.” Monty blurted out suddenly, cutting through the moment.

She ducked her head, sheepish. “I know.”

Monty, seemingly surprised by his own admission, took a hesitant step back. “You _know?”_

“Why do you think I ran away?” Harper sighed. “I liked you _so much.”_

“What?!”

“I was _sixteen!_ I was terrified of having a crush, plus my family’s stupid curse could kill you. I’m not letting that happen.” She said, steadfast, and it was clear from the set of her shoulders that this was something she wouldn’t budge on.

“Wait, so you actually believe in this curse?” Bellamy asked with a frown.

“Can I introduce you to my husband?” Diyoza said sarcastically.

Monty was still reeling from Harper’s confession. “I’m- but- but you… really?”

Pain crossed Harper’s expression and without a word, she disappeared from the diner. Monty made to follow her but Diyoza but a hand on his arm. “Give her some space, kid.”

He deflated. Clarke slid a piece of pie towards him and he accepted it gratefully, mournfully scooping it into his mouth.

Bellamy went back to his coffee. “This town is so weird.”

* * *

Clarke couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t been able to get a good night’s rest since the day Bellamy rolled into town, so she’d taken to sitting on the porch chair with a cup of tea, humming softly to herself.

Anya wasn’t the only person to notice, but she was the first to approach her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting down next to her and drawing a blanket around them both.

Clarke faltered mid-song. “I don’t know. This just feels too _easy_. I mean, we killed a guy, buried him in the backyard, and the detective looking for him is basically living here at this point and he still hasn’t caught us.”

“You don’t trust it?”

“I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Anya raised an eyebrow. “That’s not all of it.”

She could never hide anything from the aunts. “I like him.”

“Wallace?”

“Bellamy.”

“Ah.” Realisation crossed her face.

“We’re almost _friends_ at this point, and part of me wants him to stick around, even though that puts all of us in danger and I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Anya snaked an arm around her shoulders. “This town is a strange place. People end up staying here even if they never meant to. If you want him to leave, we can put something in his waffles, but if he’s been here this long and he hasn’t arrested you, well. Maybe he’s one of the good ones.”

But Clarke couldn’t shake the sense of forboding lurking in her chest.

* * *

Raven was the first of the women to cave. She turned up the next morning at the diner before they were even open. Wells hadn’t even arrived yet - it was just Clarke, slowly making her way round.

“Turn it off.”

Clarke feigned ignorance, unstacking chairs and turning on the coffee machine. “What?”

“Look, I didn’t know your girls were being bullied.” She said, and Clarke could feel her sincerity. “I didn’t know that Echo was encouraging her boy to be mean to Madi, or that Josephine yelled at Charlotte and that’s why she ran into bad luck. I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“It’s easier to do the right thing when you actually find out what that is, rather than deciding for yourself what’s right and wrong.” She said idly.

“Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry.” She said through gritted teeth. “Please, just. I haven’t eaten a single meal in five days that doesn’t taste burnt, and every cup of coffee I have is either too hot or too cold or has bad milk in it. I made a mistake.”

Clarke drummed her fingers purposefully on the chair she was holding. “Okay.”

Raven slumped in relief.

“Thank you.” She hesitated in the doorway. “Did you… do you want some help?”

“You know what? I wouldn’t mind.” She said.

When Wells arrived ten minutes later, the two of them were humming along to Sinatra’s Witchcraft while Raven inspected the back of Clarke’s coffee machine, which had been temperamental for the last week or so.

“Found the problem!” Raven said triumphantly, putting the panel back on. “Should work a treat now.”

“Am I in an alternate universe right now?” Wells rubbed his eyes. The only response he got was a laugh from the women as Raven turned the jukebox up, muttering about adapting the speakers. He pointed to the door and said. _“No Charm, No Foul.”_

Clarke snorted. “You’re the worst.” But she waved a hand and put the name up anyway.

The day went ahead as normal; Harper turned up to mope about Monty - who was deliberately avoiding looking in the window - and Murphy and Wells teased Clarke mercilessly about Bellamy. It seemed that the more she insisted that there was nothing going on, the more they disagreed. Even Harper started to join in on it, pointing out that there really was no reason for him to still be in town.

“C’mon Clarke, your pancakes are good, but they’re not _that_ good.” She said, arm hooked around hers as they walked the girls back home after work.

“What’s Auntie Harper talking about?” Charlotte asked.

“Nothing.” Clarke tugged on her pigtails. “She’s teasing me, like younger sisters tease their big sisters.”

“I don’t tease!” Madi argued.

“Oh but you will, monkey.” Harper grinned, tickling her as they walked and making her squeal delightedly. “If I have anything to say about it, you will become a champion.”

They reached the gate of the house and Clarke felt something dark under her feet. Goosebumps rippled along her arms and she threw one of them out in front of the girls. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” Harper asked, instantly serious.

“I don’t know.”

And then something small and brown came rocketing towards them from somewhere in the garden, screeching violently, and Clarke could see claws.

She shoved Madi behind her and Harper grabbed Charlotte’s hand to yank her back, and she was readying herself to fight whatever the thing was when-

Anya burst out of the back door and snapped her fingers; the creature dropped to the dirt, dead.

“What the hell was that!” Clarke gasped. She checked that the girls were okay before she edged through the gate towards the creature.

“Dee’s cat.” Anya said coldly.

“Sabrina? She died years ago.” And the cat looked it - she was half-decomposed, fur matted, eyes just two sunken holes in her head. She smelled disgusting. “Urgh. What’s she doing up and out?”

Anya crossed her arms. “She was buried near the greenhouse.”

The realisation hit her like a freight train.

“No.”

“Oh yes.”

Harper sent the girls inside. “What’s wrong?”

“When I accidentally brought Cage back to life,” Clarke said slowly, “I think I accidentally brought him back _permanently.”_

All the blood rushed out of Harper’s face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“And then we buried him in our soil and everything that ever died in that soil is coming back to life.” Anya hissed. “If that cat is up and about, it won’t be long before that man has clawed his way to the surface as well.”

“Blood on the moon.” She whispered.

Clarke sunk down on the porch chair and dropped her head into her hands. “Shit.”

Things couldn’t get any worse.

So naturally, that was when Bellamy turned up at the fence.

“Who’re you?” Anya asked suspiciously.

“Bellamy Blake, ma’am, I’m a special prosecutor here to-”

“Ah, you’re the man who upsets my neice.”

His face morphed into a mix of confusion and distress, and he looked past her to where Clarke was sitting. “Have I… did I do something to offend you?”

She lifted her head. “No, sorry, you’re not… it’s not you.”

“Are you sure, is it…” He trailed off, noticing the colour of Harper’s skin and the resigned look on Clarke’s face. “I only came to ask Harper some more questions, but you look upset. Is this a bad time? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.” She gestured for him to come in. “Come on, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

“I could do with one myself.” She trudged towards the kitchen tiredly, knowing he was following from the aura of magic pressing against her back. She boiled the kettle and set out five cups, preparing them for each. When the kettle whistled, she poured the tea into all of them in one long pour, not spilling a drop. She passed one to Bellamy before drifting into the greenhouse where the aunts were staring at the vegetable patch warily and Harper was trying to bundle Madi and Charlotte away to their rooms. She plonked the tray of cups down harder than she meant to when she saw what they were looking at - the tips of fingers, poking out from the dirt.

“Great.” She muttered, returning to the kitchen with Bellamy.

She sat down across from him and sipped her tea. “Harper’ll be over in a minute, she’s been dragged into conversation by Madi and god knows that could go on for a while.”

Bellamy’s lips quirked up. “She’s a good kid.”

“The best.”

“You must love her a lot.”

“I do.”

“You love your sister too.” His gaze was more intense than usual, scrutinizing. “I understand that. You’d do anything to protect her.”

She lifted her chin. “I would.”

“Are you hiding Cage Wallace from me?” He asked bluntly.

She pondered it, breathing in the steam over her tea. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

He frowned. “It’s an easy question - are you helping a wanted fugitive evade justice?”

“No.”

“Are you…” Something flashed in his eyes. “Clarke, did your sister kill Cage Wallace?”

“No.” She said emphatically.

This time the question was quiet. “Did _you?”_

“He’s not dead.” Clarke said, not exactly a lie, but _definitely_ not even close to the truth.

Bellamy sighed and pulled a hand from his pocket. “Then why do you have his car keys?”

Clarke stared down at the metal nestled in his palm. “Where did you get those?”

“They were next to the sink.” He gestured at it, and Clarke’s heart started thumping. Neither she nor Harper had known he even had the keys on him, let alone had the wherewithal to take them off him and then_ leave them_ on the side. “Why would you have his keys, Clarke?”

“I don’t-” she cut herself off. Started again. “I have no idea.”

He stood up, returning the keys to his pocket. “If you don’t tell me now, I’m gonna have to come back here with handcuffs and take you back to the station until I get this figured out. I promise, I’ll be much easier to talk to than my boss.”

She opened her mouth helplessly, knowing she didn’t have the answers he wanted. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, once, curt. “I’m sorry too.”

When the door swung shut behind him, it made her start, and she found herself looking longingly at the chair he’d vacated, wondering why his absence affected her even more than his presence.

Eventually, she had to move, so she got to work cleaning the kitchen ready to make dinner, and she was in the middle of stacking dishes by the sink when Madi and Charlotte appeared at her side. “Where did Bellamy go? We wanted to ask him about that book he was reading the other day.”

Clarke tried to remember if she’d seen him carrying a book. “What was that?”

“The Eye-lee-ad?” Madi tried.

The teacup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the kitchen floor.

Everything felt like it was very far away.

She was dimly aware that Harper and the aunts had run in, but it wasn’t until Harper placed a gentle hand on her shoulder that she snapped back into reality.

“-arke, what’s wrong?”

“I… Bellamy…”

“What did he do?” Anya asked, preemptively angry on her behalf.

Clarke lifted a hand to her forehead. She felt faint. “I think. Oh god, I think he’s my soulmate.”

Harper’s jaw dropped.

“No, that can’t be right.” Diyoza was shaking her head, but the realisation was starting to dawn on all of them.

“The Iliad.” Clarke whispered. “He was reading _The Iliad_. And last week he quoted the _Odyssey_ to me after my run-in with the moms.”

“Green-eyed sister.” Harper realised.

“Her husband is probably a fireman.” Diyoza face-palmed.

“Freckles.” Madi said delightedly.

“Brown eyes.” Charlotte added.

Anya joined in. “Not quite six feet tall.”

“Card-carrying member of the Dead Parents Club.” Clarke said, and the words tasted bad in her mouth.

“Hey, that’s not your fault.” Diyoza said. “You didn’t cause that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s not how magic works.” Anya said, deadly serious. “He existed before the spell was cast, and you can’t prophesy something like that into existence with a true love spell, not even with the strength of your gifts.”

“He doesn’t love me, he _can’t_. It’s just the spell.” She tried again, but Diyoza was the one shaking her head that time.

“Magic can do a lot of things - it can curse and resurrect and destroy - but it cannot create feelings where there aren’t none, at least, not the true kind. All a True Love Spell can do is bring two souls together; it can’t force a love that doesn’t exist.”

“But if he’s my true love then I could be killing _him_. He’s in danger just by being in _town.”_ She said frantically. “We’ve got to get him out.”

“You know, I couldn’t agree more.” A voice said from the doorway.

They all whipped around to find Cage Wallace standing before them, a little worse for wear, but on his feet and with vengeance in his eyes.

“I think you should keep Officer Blake as far away from me as possible.” He hissed.

“He’s a detective now.” Clarke responded, unable to think of anything else to say in the face of a real life zombie in her kitchen.

“Good for him.” Cage said.

And then he lunged forward.

He was reaching for Charlotte, and Diyoza threw herself at the child and yanked her out of his path. Anya grabbed Madi, and then it was just Harper and Clarke in the kitchen, facing off against their mistake.

He grinned at them and mud fell out of his teeth. “I always thought I’d go out in a hail of bullets. And instead, I was taken down by two measly girls. It took me by surprise, I’ll give you that. But I hope you know I can’t let you live. Not after that.”

“Yeah?” Harper squared up. “Bring it.”

He leapt for her, fingers just barely grazing her throat, and she waved a hand and he was repelled away from her.

Clarke followed suit and he was blasted into the wall, hard enough to make the plaster rain down like snow. Somewhere in the house, Diyoza yelled something about not destroying her house, but Clarke didn’t catch it, because Cage was already back on his feet.

He rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck. “You didn’t really think it’d be that easy did you?”

“Clarkey, what do we do?” Harper asked.

They both started backing away from the slowly advancing man.

“I don’t know.”

“Well we need to think of something. Fast.” She said, shrieking as Cage swung a fist at her and she barely escaped its impact.

“I’m working on it.” Clarke said through gritted teeth, waving a hand to create a barrier between them and the zombie.

It didn’t work - she managed to remember at the last second that those forcefields only worked on living things - and he walked right through it, rage burning in his eyes.

“Okay, I’m all out of ideas.” She admitted. She ducked his lunge for her throat, but he managed to catch her hair. She kicked him, but he didn’t feel any pain.

“I’ve still got a few.”

Cage twisted her around in his grip so she could see Bellamy standing in front of them, arm outstretched, gun in hand.

“Ah, ah, ah, detective - I’d think twice about shooting that if I were you. You wouldn’t want to hit an innocent bystander would you?”

Bellamy didn’t look at Clarke; he kept his gaze firmly locked on Cage’s pallid face. “From what I can tell, she’s not that innocent. Didn’t she kill you?”

“You’re advocating murder now?” Cage scoffed.

Bellamy’s finger inched closer to the trigger.

“You don’t even know if that gun will do anything.” He tried again.

Bellamy shrugged. “Yeah, but neither do you.” And he shot Cage squarely between the eyes.

His head jerked back and his grip loosened on Clarke. She shoved him away and stumbled forward, collapsing right into Bellamy’s open arms. He brought them up around her, holding her close, and she really did feel at home pressed against his chest. She didn’t have much time to enjoy the sensation, however, because Harper made a strange noise beside her, and when she looked up, her sister was collapsed on the floor beside Cage’s body, writhing painfully.

Clarke felt her heart drop into her shoes.

_“Fuck.”_

“What? What’s going on?” Bellamy asked.

His hand was still on her arm and it was the only thing keeping her from spinning out completely.

“She’s possessed. That bastard possessed her to stop himself from going back to the other side. Son of a bitch.” She kicked the overturned chair next to her.

“Okay, what do we do?”

She dropped down beside her sister. “I don’t know. I’m not strong enough to do this on my own. Even with Diyoza and Anya, we’re still down a full witch and this kind of spell needs at least seven people - thirteen if it’s really gonna work. I can’t… I can’t do anything.”

Tears started to well in her eyes. Her sister was going to die, possessed by the man who hurt her, and it was all Clarke’s fault. She sobbed, hair falling in her face.

Bellamy was pacing, just on the outskirts of her vision.

“Thirteen people?” He clarified.

“Yes, but we don’t _have_ thirteen people.” She sniffled.

“Do they have to be witches?”

She lifted her head hesitantly. “No, they just… they just have to be willing.”

Bellamy held out a hand to help her to her feet. “You’ve got Diyoza, Anya, you, Madi and Charlotte, right? I’m willing - so you only need seven more people to make it work.”

“Sure. But who’s going to help me in this town?”

He slid his gun back in its holster. “I’m pretty good at a motivational speech, Clarke. You just_ watch me.”_

“You’re serious?” Her heart clenched and she wanted to kiss him or tell him to run far away and never return, because she was in danger of being very much in love with him.

“Will it work?”

She looked down at the body of her sister as the two souls warred within it. “It’ll work. It has to.”

He squeezed her fingers, dropped her hand, and sprinted out the door, and Clarke was left in the mess of what used to be the kitchen.

She yelled out for her family and they emerged from the corridor nervously. When they saw the state of things, Diyoza’s eyes turned a steel harsher than Clarke had ever seen. She helped carry Harper into the greenhouse and place her on the ground gently, and she made sure to kick Cage’s body on the way through. Anya knelt down to explain to the girls how to do the spell they were about to attempt, and Clarke got the potions and sigils ready.

Not twenty minutes later, Wells burst in the front door, Emori and Murphy on his heels.

“We heard there was an exorcism happening?” Murphy asked, fascinated.

Wells smacked him and looked to Clarke. “We’re here to help.”

She pointed them through to the greenhouse, and had barely lowered her arm when Raven arrived. She looked furious. “Where’s the demon we’re killing?”

Then Monty appeared, with his friend Jasper trailing him, eyeing the house with vested interest.

And finally, Sinclair - the diner’s most faithful regular - paced into the house, determined, with Bellamy following close behind.

As she watched them all file into the greenhouse, Clarke couldn’t help but feel impressed, and she felt Bellamy at her shoulder. “See.”

“You’re my true love.” She blurted out.

He froze. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not… you’re not even gonna question that?”

Those deep brown eyes were holding hers earnestly. “Not really. I’ve been thinking pretty much those exact same words on a loop since I arrived in town, so.”

She slumped. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wished for you. I cast a spell for my true love, trying to create an impossible man so that I would never hurt anyone with my family’s curse, but… here you are.”

“Here I am.” He repeated. “And if you’re trying to scare me off, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that. I just saw a serial killer rise from the dead.”

“You could _die!”_

“I could die anyway. I’d much rather die knowing I’d loved and been loved in return.” His face was awfully close to hers and getting closer, and she couldn’t help but sway closer, aching to close the gap entirely.

“You’re right; you are good at speeches.” She murmured.

Diyoza poked her head through the door. “Not that I’m not happy for you, but could you do this later? We’re on a time crunch here.”

Sheepish, Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s hand and dragged him through to where everybody was already standing in a circle around Harper’s body.

They all joined hands.

Clarke started the chant. _“Daemonium expellere virtutem solis et lunae.”_

One by one, all of them joined in.

_“Daemonium expellere virtutem solis et lunae.”_

The ground began to rumble beneath their feet.

_“Daemonium expellere virtutem solis et lunae.”_

Thunder crashed overhead in a sky that had been nothing but blue all day.

_“Daemonium expellere virtutem solis et lunae.”_

Harper screamed in pain and lightning crashed.

_“Daemonium expellere virtutem solis et lunae.”_

Harper’s screams rose in pitch and Clarke felt the agony lance through her chest.

“It’s killing her.” Clarke whispered.

She made eye contact with Anya across the circle.

“Clarke Griffin don’t you dare-”

But it was too late.

Clarke broke the circle to throw herself onto her sister, clutching her in a hug. “You promised. You’ll always come back. We’ll always be here.”

A wave of pure magic blasted out from her sternum, rippling through the air like a shockwave and sending the others stumbling back, breaking what remained of the circle.

Harper went limp in her arms.

She buried her face in her hair, crying quietly. “You promised. You promised, Harp, you swore you’d come back.”

“Don’t let it be said that I don’t keep my promises.” Harper croaked, squinting her eyes open. She swallowed gingerly. “But I’d rather not have to come back from something like that again, because I have the world’s worst hangover.”

Clarke laughed, watery, and Harper lifted her arms to hug her back. The two of them sat in the dirt of the greenhouse, for a long, unbroken minute of silence.

Slowly, the others relaxed too, realising the danger had passed.

Madi and Charlotte threw themselves on top of their mother and Harper. Diyoza and Anya collapsed against each other, exhausted, and Wells clapped Murphy on the shoulder. Sinclair shook Bellamy’s hand. Monty crouched down by the hydrangeas to catch his breath. Emori’s hand surreptitiously slipped into Murphy’s, and Raven sank into the chair that Jasper pulled over for her.

Jasper was the first to speak. “I always knew you guys were real witches.”

“That a problem?” Anya asked, barely threatening, considering what they’d just been through.

“Problem?” He grinned. “I think it’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

A laugh rippled through all of them, one by one, until they were roaring with laughter in the dirt that was no longer cursed; one shared moment that had bound them all together.

* * *

The next day, Clarke went into work, as usual.

To the rest of the town, nothing should have changed.

But things felt different.

There were less sharp looks in her direction, less whispers as she dropped the girls off at school, and Pike had left her food order at the door rather than expecting her to walk through the storeroom like she usually did.

It was odd.

But the town had always been odd.

_“Witchful Thinking!”_ Wells called out as he walked in.

Clarke waved a hand.

“Coffee, please.” Sinclair asked politely as he took his usual seat by the window.

She put on a pot.

Within an hour, the diner was the busiest she’d ever seen it, and she spied Harper outside, leaning against a lamppost while Monty showed her the different kinds of strawberries he’d picked that morning, and Clarke concealed a smile behind her hand.

“Hey, I heard you came out.” Macallan said after he ordered a burger. “I think it’s awesome. And I guess I’m not the only one.”

He gestured at the heaving diner.

“I came out years ago.” She said, confused.

He laughed. “No, I don’t mean that, I mean, y’know, the _witch_ thing.”

Clarke did a double take, surprised at the openness with which he said it - not a lowered voice or a sideways glance in sight. She felt a kind of calm settle over her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. “Thanks Mac.”

“Hey, as long as you keep making fries the way you do, and conjuring up that ointment for my horse’s mane, I think this is the best thing that’s happened to this town since Diyoza’s husband.”

Macallan wasn’t the only one who thought so - nearly everyone she spoke to had something kind to say, and her magical request box was fuller than it had ever been - and she was so busy floating from the high of being accepted by the town that she’d fought with for so long that she almost missed the arrival of a familiar person in his usual chair.

“This seems nice.” Bellamy was saying to Wells, glancing around at the place. “You sure you’re equipped to deal with this many customers?”

“I resent that!” Murphy retorted from the kitchen.

Bellamy opened his mouth to reply, but he got caught on the words when he saw Clarke. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She said softly. “The curse is broken.”

He didn’t need to ask what curse she meant - it had broken when Clarke rescued Harper, rippled back across the generations with so much love that it snapped the chain that bound the curse together.

She cleared her throat, glancing away and pretending not to notice that nearly everyone was looking at them, and that Harper and Monty were practically pressed against the diner window. “What can I get for you today?”

“Coffee’s good.” He said, but it sounded like he was trying to say something else.

“Just coffee, no food?”

He offered her a tentative smile. “Well, I’m planning on sticking around for a while, so I don’t need to order right away.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. This town’s growing, and your nearest police station is two towns over.” He pulled at his collar. “My boss thought it would be a smart idea if I stayed in the area, kept an eye on things around here - what with a notorious killer being on the loose and all.”

“Really.” It wasn’t exactly a question. She stepped closer.

“Is that okay with you?” He asked, tilting his head down just as she tilted hers up.

“What’s your favourite colour?” She asked just before their lips touched.

He smiled, and she felt it. “Blue.”

“You can stay as long as you like.” She kissed him, threw her arms around his neck to pull him closer, and Wells started a cheer that was echoed by nearly the entire population of the diner.

When they finally broke the kiss, she laughed against Bellamy’s cheek. She felt _happy_, and that was a feeling that was going to take some getting used to.

But dammit if she wasn’t willing.

Arms encircled her from behind and Harper spun her around excitedly, singing and laughing in her ear.

She hugged her sister, and waved a hand. “Free coffee for everyone.”

Mugs appeared on every table, full and steaming prettily, and the crowd gasped; it ws the first real show of magic that most of them had seen, and they were delighted.

Bellamy dragged her back into his arms.

_Home._

“I think I’m going to like dating a witch.” He murmured behind her head.

“You think this is good, you should see us at Halloween - we get on our broomsticks and fly.”

“As long as you’re flying towards me.” He teased.

“Gross.” Emori said, but she was smiling at them.

For so long, love had felt like a weakness, like something to be feared. It was a curse. But Clarke didn't feel that way anymore. Magic can do a lot of things - it can create, it can destroy, and it can resurrect - but it can’t create love. Love is the purest form of magic.

The love between two people who were bound together by the universe.

The love for one’s children.

The love of two sisters.

_True love._

Witches or not, true love was unbreakable, and as Bellamy kissed her cheek and Harper put a song on the jukebox, for the first time in her life, Clarke felt it.

She felt unbreakable.


End file.
